Anti-Cathexis
by Jordan Trevor
Summary: Reintegrating Chakotay's consciousness takes more than three neural transceivers, two cortical stimulators, and fifty gigaquads of computer memory.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This is another story that I began several years ago before I started my longer stories. I have about five chapters already written, but it's not completed yet. The writing muse seems to be leading me to some of my unfinished stories, so I look forward to skipping around and adding chapters along the way.

 **Disclaimer:** _Voyager's_ crew doesn't belong to me.

* * *

He felt the twitch in his right eye. And then, his cheek. He winced and rubbed his fingers over his face. There was no pain, just tension in his neck and shoulders. His eye twitched again.

He was tired. That was all. The past few days had been something of an ordeal. But who would have thought that floating around the ship as disembodied energy could be so exhausting. He stifled an approaching yawn and flexed his shoulders, rolled his head back, stretched his neck muscles. Felt the twitch in his eye trace down his back and into his arms. Then his legs. His body stiffened, grew rigid. He fell forward, on his side, shoulder to the deck. He was trembling uncontrollably.

Someone knelt above him, touched his face, spoke his name. He tried to respond, found that he couldn't speak. Sudden pain lanced through his head, behind his eyes, and everything went dark.

~vVv~

His eyes opened, and he was staring at the ceiling. In Sickbay. The diagnostic shell was closed over his bare chest. The Doctor's face suddenly appeared above him.

"You're awake," he stated the obvious.

Chakotay blinked. He _was_ awake. In Sickbay. And it wasn't a dream. Or a nightmare. He closed his eyes. Long minutes passed. Then someone touched him, fingers brushing softly through his hair. He opened his eyes again. Janeway was staring down at him.

"Welcome back, Commander," she smiled.

He sighed, lifted one corner of his mouth into a half grin. "Where have I been this time?"

"You have been unconscious for the past two-point-three hours," the Doctor intoned as he stepped back to the biobed. He activated the diagnostic shell, and it opened.

Chakotay tried to sit up, but Janeway pressed her hand against his shoulder. "Not so fast. Apparently, we let you up too soon the last time."

"I was able to reintegrate the commander's consciousness by utilizing three neural transceivers, two cortical stimulators, and fifty gigaquads of computer memory," the Doctor explained. Again. "However, complete reintegration has not been achieved. Your neural synapses are experiencing difficulty with re-routing the electrical impulses. That is what caused your seizure. **"**

Chakotay grimaced at the explanation. There was nothing comforting in the Doctor's words. It made him feel more like a science project than a human being.

"What can you do to aid the reintegration?" Janeway inquired, her hand closing protectively around Chakotay's shoulder.

"I have already begun an intensive drug treatment program," the Doctor replied.

"How long will it take?" Chakotay questioned.

The Doctor looked at the captain and then back to the first officer. "I cannot give you a precise answer."

Chakotay sighed. "How about an imprecise one?"

The Doctor gave him a blank stare. "I am unable to make such a conjecture. That would be terribly unscientific."

Sensing Chakotay's frustration, Janeway's hand closed tighter on his shoulder. "Needless to say, Commander, you will be here longer than you were the last time."

"That's what I was afraid of," Chakotay frowned and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Chakotay?" Worry edged Janeway's voice.

The commander's eyes fluttered open. "Just tired," he mumbled.

"Then I suggest you sleep," the Doctor said crisply. "And, I respectfully suggest that you leave, Captain."

Janeway's lips pursed as she tried to suppress a smile. "I'll be back later to check on you," she promised her first officer, patting his shoulder.

"I will keep you informed, Captain," the Doctor assured, a trace of impatience in his voice.

This time, Janeway's smile broke through. "I'm sure you will, Doctor." She winked at Chakotay.

He returned her smile as his eyes fell closed.

~vVv~


	2. Chapter 2

"Sickbay to Captain Janeway."

The captain looked up from her computer as the Doctor's words broke the silence of her ready room.

"Janeway here," she responded, hoping Chakotay was all right. "How is the commander?"

There was a moment's hesitation before his reply. "I would very much like to inform you of Commander Chakotay's condition; however, I am unable to do so at this time. The commander is no longer in Sickbay."

A definite trace of exasperation laced the Doctor's tone. For an Emergency Medical Hologram who sometimes still had a certain lack of empathy for the crew's emotional needs, he wore his own feelings plainly on his sleeve and in his voice.

Janeway sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Computer, location of Commander Chakotay?"

"Commander Chakotay is in his quarters," the computer intoned.

"Captain?" It was the Doctor's voice again, exasperation now bordering on irritation.

Janeway pushed herself up from her desk. "Doctor, I've located the commander."

"In that case, would you please return him to Sickbay as it is impossible for me to go to him."

Janeway shook her head and paced over to the door. "I'll do my best…"

~vVv~

She pushed the door chime again. Still, there was no response. She entered her override authorization code, and the door slid open. The cabin beyond was dim. She took a step forward, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light, and caught a movement from the corner of her eye.

And then a voice. "In or out."

Janeway took another step into the room, and the door closed behind her. She looked to her right. Chakotay stood at the viewport, arms extended in front of him, palms flat against the glass. He was wearing a black robe.

"Good. You're dressed," she accessed the situation succinctly. "It will make my escorting you back to Sickbay all the more easier."

The man shook his head. "I'm not going back to Sickbay."

She moved closer to him. "You had no authority to release yourself in the first place."

"I...I can't stay there."

"And why not?"

"I just... can't, damn it!"

Janeway tensed slightly. She hadn't been expecting his anger. She knew he was worried and frustrated, and she'd seen his temper before, but why now? And the answer came to her immediately.

He was afraid.

She stepped over and stood behind him. "What's wrong, Chakotay?"

He drew in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, his jawline hardening even more. "You mean besides the fact that my bio-neural energy isn't fully integrated?"

Janeway winced at his words. She had no idea what he was going through. But still, she proceeded with her line of questioning.

"Why did you leave Sickbay?"

Chakotay's eyes closed, and his head bent forward, his lips pulling into a thin, hard line.

"Chakotay?" Janeway prompted, reaching out and placing her hand on the back of his shoulder. She could feel the muscles tighten.

"I...I was unable to be alone there; unable to find..." His voice trailed off.

She noticed the contents of his medicine bundle on the table beside them. "Unable to find your animal spirit guide?" she offered, and felt the muscles under her fingers relax slightly.

His head nodded in affirmation. "Yes," he replied, eyes opening, focusing on the stars outside the viewport. "I don't believe I've lost her guidance, but I'm having trouble finding her."

Janeway tentatively massaged his shoulder. "Perhaps because you're having trouble finding yourself right now," she suggested.

"Yes," he agreed, pulling away from the comforting hand that touched him. He needed to be alone. To find his way back on his own. To place his trust in himself and his guide.

But Janeway didn't give up very easily. "Commander, I respect your feelings and your beliefs, but I also respect the Doctor's medical advice and expertise. It is his belief that further drug treatment is necessary. And since he so aptly reminded me that he cannot come to you, I must insist that you return to Sickbay. At least, until the treatment is completed."

Again, he shook his head. "Can't I give myself the treatment? I do know how to use a hypospray."

"Yes, I'm sure you do." Janeway hesitated for a moment, and then continued. "Have you experienced any further seizures?"

Chakotay flinched. There was that word again. The one that frightened the hell out of him. Thankfully, he was able to respond negatively. "No, I haven't."

"Yet," Janeway added, hating to play Devil's Advocate.

He didn't respond. There was nothing more for him to say. He knew she was right. There probably would be other seizures. He'd already experienced several spasms in his arms and legs, tremors along his facial muscles. And he just couldn't get rid of that damned twitch in his right eye. Just like he couldn't get rid of Janeway and her concern for him.

He sighed, and turned, sank down onto the couch, his elbows braced on his knees, head cradled in his hands. Already, he knew that Kathryn Janeway's concern for her crew - their crew - was genuine. She was here, now, not because she had to be. Because she wanted to be. She cared. And Chakotay grudgingly realized that he needed someone to care, someone to trust. Ever since Seska... He forced his thoughts away from her. Those were memories he didn't want to remember. He had enough to deal with as it was.

He felt the cushion move as Janeway sat down beside him. "I suppose that Kes could come here," she said, thinking out loud. "And, perhaps, I could keep you company as well."

Chakotay rubbed at his eyes with the heel of one hand. "You're suggesting that I need a babysitter?"

It was Janeway's turn to shake her head. "That's not what I said. But it is inadvisable for you to be left completely alone."

He looked over at her wearily, realizing he didn't have the strength to argue… even if he'd wanted to.

"Take it or leave it, Commander," she bargained.

And he nodded, a faint grin playing across his tired features. "I'll take it," he said quietly.

Janeway reached over and placed her hand on his knee, gave it a gentle pat. "Good," she smiled. "It will give us a chance to get better acquainted."

~vVv~


	3. Chapter 3

It was painful to watch. The spoon barely made it from the bowl to his mouth without the soup spilling, dribbling down his chin, and staining his pajama shirt. Still, he continued to eat, one bite after another. Willpower and determination.

Janeway never allowed her gaze to falter from the man beside her; the expression on her face remained one of silent encouragement. Not once did she look away in embarrassment, although he averted his eyes many times, especially when his hands shook uncontrollably. And when the spoon dropped to the table, Janeway reached out and wrapped her fingers around his until the shaking stopped. The spasms were mostly minor, but the seizures were severe. His body would go tense and rigid, the muscles in his face would tighten, his mouth twist. Sometimes the convulsions would last for several minutes. And they always left him weak and exhausted. Defeated. But not beaten.

Janeway reached out and gently traced her fingers across his cheek, down along the firm line of his jaw. "This will pass, Chakotay," she reminded him.

He would not look at her, but pulled his hand away, and forced himself to pick up the spoon. He brought another bite to his lips.

"Talk to me," Janeway prodded.

He swallowed the spoonful of corn chowder, appreciating the fact that Neelix had made it for him, but still... "There's nothing to say."

"The Doctor thinks-"

"The Doctor can't be sure."

Janeway sighed. The past few days had not been easy. Instead of getting better, Chakotay was getting worse. The seizures had increased in both frequency and intensity. His neuro-muscular system was terribly weakened. He had trouble walking and found it difficult to perform simple tasks such as dressing and feeding himself. But still he resisted any help from his fellow crew members. Several times he'd stumbled and fallen while crossing his cabin. And although he was able to feed himself, Janeway noticed that he was still wearing the pajamas he'd had on the day before.

Kes had informed the captain that the previous night had been difficult. Chakotay had been restless, unable to sleep peacefully. He'd woken from nightmares, frightened, shaking, tears trailing down his cheeks. But he'd resisted any comfort Kes had extended toward him, and had chosen not to discuss the nightmares with anyone.

Janeway watched as he continued to struggle with the bowl of soup. And although his eyes were staring at the spoon in his hand, he seemed to be light years away, focused on something else entirely.

She took a deep breath, determined to draw him into a conversation. "Chakotay, tell me about-"

The sound of the door chime cut her off. Chakotay shifted his gaze toward her inquiringly. She shrugged her shoulders, although she was fairly sure that she knew who it was.

Chakotay's lips twisted into a frown, but he answered the chime. "Come in."

The door slid open, and Tom Paris stepped inside. "Commander, Captain," he nodded toward the table and then stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his back.

Chakotay raised an eyebrow in Janeway's direction, but addressed Paris. "Lieutenant, can we help you?"

Paris' face went blank with confusion, his mouth opened to speak and then closed. He stared at the captain, then opened his mouth again. "I, um... Well, I'm here to... Um… Captain?" he finished somewhat meekly.

Chakotay turned his dark eyes back to Janeway and waited for an explanation.

She sighed. Paris had lousy timing. "Tom is here to help you take a bath."

Chakotay's eyes narrowed. "The hell he is."

"Commander, the Doctor has informed me that, in addition to the drug treatment, hot baths will help to relax your muscles. Now, your mobility and balance have been greatly reduced, and I don't think that it's a good idea for you to be climbing in and out of the bathtub on your own."

"So, you called on Paris to play lifeguard."

Janeway nodded. "I thought you'd be more comfortable with Tom."

Paris grinned. "I told her if it were me, I'd personally prefer Lieutenant Torres."

Chakotay shook his head. They were exasperating, but he noted the determined look on Janeway's face and knew it was useless to argue.

He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. His legs felt weak and unsteady, and it must have shown for Paris was at his side immediately, taking hold of his elbow with one hand and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Self-consciously, Chakotay leaned against the lieutenant as they began to walk slowly toward the bedroom. At the door, he looked back at Janeway. She sat watching them, unconsciously holding her breath.

"Captain," he said, his face and voice maddeningly neutral, "I just want it to be known that, well, I'd personally prefer Torres myself."

What his voice didn't reveal was shown in the gleam of his eyes – that dry sense of humor that Janeway was learning to understand and appreciate, especially during tense situations.

She exhaled, inclining her head in acknowledgement. "Preference noted, Commander." A teasing smile lifted the corners of her lips. Two could play at this game. "Lieutenant Paris, if the commander should start to drown... don't bother to save him."

~vVv~


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Tom Paris had questioned Janeway's choice of a "lifeguard." In fact, he'd questioned it rather vehemently. He'd argued, no, he'd strongly suggested that the captain find someone else. Perhaps a member of the Maquis. After all, the first officer would probably feel more comfortable with someone he knew better.

Janeway had some strong suggestions of her own. She'd thought the same way at first, but then dismissed the idea. Chakotay was admired and respected by the Maquis crew members; the image he projected was one of strength and control. Any one of them would have been more than willing to help their commander. They all knew that he was ill. But knowing and seeing were different matters altogether. Janeway didn't want to do anything that could possibly harm the relationship Chakotay had with his crew. His image would be safe with her.

And so, she'd explained, that had left Paris. Chakotay's image meant virtually nothing to the brash, young lieutenant. There would be no long term relationship to damage. And caring for a fellow officer might actually do him some good. Something about warmth and empathy. Of course, those weren't the exact words she'd used, but he'd gotten the general idea. And besides, she'd added with a knowing smile, now that Chakotay's life belonged to Paris, well, there were a few responsibilities.

Paris frowned as he adjusted the bathtub's water controls. She couldn't have used that last bit against him if it hadn't been for his own big mouth. The "your life is mine" routine had become common knowledge on the bridge. It was only a joke. But Janeway had taken it a step further.

"Damn!" The voice came from over his shoulder.

Paris swung around and found Chakotay leaning in the bathroom doorway, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons on his pajama shirt.

"Can't you stay put?" Paris complained good-naturedly, stepping over to the man. He'd left Chakotay sitting on the edge of the bed. "I told you I'd be back for you."

Dark brown eyes flashed up at him. "I can walk across my bedroom."

"Yeah, well that's good because you're getting nowhere with that shirt." Paris reached out and gently pushed Chakotay's shaking hands away from his chest. "Let me help."

Chakotay didn't object, although he wasn't at all happy with the situation. He reluctantly allowed Paris to unbutton and remove his shirt. The first officer was solid and muscular, and although Paris was taller, there was no doubt who was normally the stronger of the two. It was somewhat disconcerting to realize just how weak Chakotay was now.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said quietly, "I can manage the rest myself."

Paris took a step back and hitched his hip on the bathroom counter. "I'm sure you can. But my orders are not to leave you under any circumstances."

"Lieutenant..."

"Hey," he raised his hands in mock surrender, "it's not my idea. The captain reminded me that, well..." Paris smiled. "Your life is mine, Commander."

Chakotay heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Aren't you taking this 'your life is mine' thing a little too seriously?"

"Just... Get in the tub, Chakotay," Paris muttered. "I have a date in an hour."

Chakotay shook his head in defeat and moved toward the tub. "You sure this water is hot?" he questioned.

"Scalding."

"Good." Chakotay untied his pajama pants and allowed them to slip off his hips and fall to the floor. He started to step into the tub, and then felt Paris' hand on his arm, supporting him. He didn't pull away, but let him help as he sank into the water.

Chakotay instantly felt his body relax as the warmth surrounded him. Bracing himself with his arms on either side of the tub, he leaned his head back against the edge and closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he'd taken the time to enjoy the luxury of a hot bath. In fact, while fighting with the Maquis, he was damn lucky to grab a shower once, maybe twice, a week. But now, it seemed like he had all the time in the world. And that's what worried him. All the time in the world, and yet the quality of his life might never be the same again. Oh, he'd heard what the Doctor had said. Even understood most of it. Complete reintegration was possible; he just needed some more time. But the Doctor had been somewhat vague as to the actual amount of time his recovery would require. Of course, by the time they all made it back to Earth, he would probably be just fine. He hoped.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me because I'm not picking you up," Paris' voice interrupted Chakotay's thoughts.

The commander opened his eyes. "You still here," he mumbled, glancing toward the counter.

"Yeah." And then he laughed. "Sorry I'm not Torres."

Chakotay grinned. "Not half as sorry as I am."

They both sat in silence for several moments, and then Chakotay shrugged his shoulders. "So, how long am I supposed to sit here?"

Paris' face clouded slightly with confusion. "Hell, I don't know. The captain just said to put you in; she didn't say when to take you out. I guess when the water gets cold."

Chakotay nodded in agreement. "Makes sense."

Paris slid off the side of the counter and began to pace back and forth. "You just let me know. Relax, but remember I've got that-"

"You've got that date. I remember." Chakotay leaned his head back and closed his eyes again.

~vVv~


	5. Chapter 5

"Chakotay?"

"I'm still awake."

Paris sighed. "And I'm still here." He'd been pacing and sitting off and on for a quarter of an hour. He'd thought about trying to start a conversation, but hell, what did you talk about in a situation like this? Life on a starship precluded any discussions of the weather.

Chakotay's eyes flickered open. "I guess it's getting a little cold in here." He held up his hands and looked at his fingers. "And I seem to be sufficiently wrinkled."

"Finally." Paris picked up a towel with one hand and extended his other in Chakotay's direction. "Now, not too fast."

Chakotay braced his left hand on the side of the tub and allowed Paris to take hold of the right one. The younger man's grip was strong and solid, and he pulled the older man to his feet and helped him step over the edge. Once he was standing steady on the bath mat, he gave him the towel, and Chakotay dried himself off, then wrapped the towel around his waist.

"Feel better?" Paris asked as they walked slowly into the bedroom, the commander leaning against his shoulder.

Chakotay took a deep breath, felt the oxygen expand his lungs. "Yeah, I do. Thanks."

"Think nothing of it." Paris directed him toward the bed. "Have a seat while I get your pajamas."

Chakotay sat. "Top drawer, right hand side."

Paris turned, walked over to the dresser on the opposite side of the room and opened the drawer. He rummaged through it. "Who folds your clothes, Chakotay? This drawer is worse than mine."

Chakotay didn't respond to his teasing.

And it was a joke, nothing deserving a serious answer, but Paris had expected some sort of reply. "Hey, I asked..." He looked over his shoulder, and his voice trailed off immediately when he saw Chakotay.

The man was still sitting on the edge of the bed, but his entire body had stiffened. His jaw was tight and his eyes moved quickly back and forth. By the time Paris reached him, his arms and legs had started to tremble.

Paris wrapped his arms around Chakotay's shoulders and eased him back on the bed as his muscles convulsed. His skin was cold, yet covered in perspiration. His mouth was still tightly shut, teeth grinding. Dark eyes stared up at Paris, stopping their movement. He could see how hard Chakotay was trying to control the seizure, to regain command of his own body. But he wasn't able to do it. And so, Paris held on to him until the convulsions passed.

When it was over, Chakotay lay fairly still in Paris' arms. His eyes had closed and his breathing was shallow and irregular. He was shivering slightly, not from the seizure, but from the cold. Paris pulled a blanket off the bed and awkwardly wrapped it around Chakotay's body. Then he placed his hand against the man's face, wiped away the perspiration that covered his cheeks and forehead.

"I've got you," he assured him. "I'm calling Sickbay." His other hand went to his combadge.

Chakotay's eyes blinked open. "Don't." His voice stopped Paris' movement. "They've all been like this. The Doctor… can't do anything about them. Says..." He swallowed. "Says it's part of the reintegration." He drew in a deep breath, steadier this time. "Besides, our Doctor can't make house calls."

Paris exhaled a heavy sigh. Janeway had warned him, tried to prepare him for the possibility of a seizure episode. But nothing could have prepared him for this. Seeing Chakotay, the bull-headed Maquis leader, incapacitated, betrayed by his own body. His own shock must have shown on his face, for Chakotay pulled away from Paris and struggled to sit up. The first officer's face flushed with embarrassment. He clutched the blanket closer around him.

"Don't... Don't forget my pajamas."

"Uh, yeah." Paris stood and crossed back to the drawer, then returned with a pair of dark blue pajamas, held them out to Chakotay. "Are these all right?"

"They're fine." Chakotay reached to take them, but Paris didn't let go.

Blue eyes met the frightened brown ones, but Chakotay didn't see any revulsion there, only concern. "I'll do it," Paris offered, and then quickly slipped the pajamas onto Chakotay.

He was helping him into bed when they heard the outer cabin door slide open, and then the captain's voice. "Can I come in?"

The two men answered in unison. "Come in."

Janeway appeared in the doorway, a hypospray in one hand. "Just came to deliver this." She walked over to the bed and watched as Paris tucked the covers around Chakotay's shoulders. "Everything all right?"

Chakotay glanced at Paris and then nodded. "Just fine, Captain." His voice was monotone, but his eyes glinted. "Hell of a bath."

"Oh, really." She looked over at Paris. "Glad to see you didn't let him drown."

"I was tempted," Paris replied, his tone serious. "But, I've got a date right now, and I figured if I killed him, you'd probably put me in the Brig and what would the Delaney sisters do without me?"

Janeway shook her head. "I don't even want to speculate, Lieutenant."

Paris edged toward the door. "So, since you're here, is it all right if I..."

Janeway smiled. "You're dismissed, Mister Paris."

"Tom..." Chakotay caught him as he headed out the door. Their eyes locked again. "Thanks," he murmured.

"Hey, no problem. Your life is mine," he threw back over his shoulder as he disappeared into the other room and then out the door.

Janeway watched the lieutenant leave, and then sat down on the edge of the bed, shifted her gaze to the commander. "You know, Chakotay, he's never going to let you forget it." She reached out and pressed the hypospray to his neck.

Chakotay winced, then managed a half grin. "I know."

~vVv~


	6. Chapter 6

He'd made the mistake of taking a nap. The bath, combined with the seizure and the medication, had exhausted him, and minutes after the captain had returned, Chakotay's eyes fell closed.

Three hours later, when the nightmare images tore him from a troubled sleep, sitting straight up in bed, shaking, cold beads of sweat covering his face and forehead, Janeway was still there, pulling him into her arms, rubbing his back, whispering soothing words into his ear.

"Shh, it's just a nightmare, Chakotay. You're safe."

For long moments, he didn't move, his hands instinctively clinging to her, until the last of the images faded, and he realized where he was and who was holding him.

Janeway felt him stiffen, and he drew back, a look of shame stealing quickly across his face before his expression closed and grew blank.

He lowered his eyes. "I'm all right."

She could still feel the trembling along his shoulders, but she pulled her arms away, giving him time to recover, as he took in deep breaths, trying to steady the hard beating of his heart.

"Can I… have a few minutes?" he murmured.

"Of course." Janeway stood up from the side of the bed where she'd been sitting, walked to the door. She looked back, saw that he'd dropped his head, his hands fisted tightly around the blanket, fighting for the control he'd lost.

And in that moment, her heart ached for him.

~vVv~


	7. Chapter 7

Five minutes passed, and then another five. Chakotay pulled himself together, managed to get out of bed, shrug on a robe, and make it to the doorway. He stood there, holding onto the frame, breathing deeply, trying to stop the trembling in his legs.

Janeway got up from where she was sitting at his desk and came over to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Lean on me," she said quietly.

He either leaned on her or fell flat on his face - so he obliged, allowed her to take the bulk of his weight as she led him over to the couch and helped him sink down onto the cushions. He settled back, stared up at her. "Thanks," he mumbled softly.

And she smiled. "Just a little command team support." Then she stepped over to the replicator and came back with a tray – a glass of milk and another bowl of soup. She sat in the opposite chair and set the tray on the coffee table between them.

He stared at it for a moment, then up at her. "Didn't I just eat?"

"Five hours ago. A bath and a nap makes time fly." She nodded toward the bowl. "Try some. It's mushroom."

Chakotay started to object, then saw the look on her face.

"Try some," she said again.

The words may have been a suggestion, but her tone was a command, and he knew that he didn't have the strength to protest. A few minutes later, he realized that he didn't have the strength to hold the bowl when it started to slip from his hand. She was beside him in an instant, taking it from him, setting it back on the tray.

Picking up the tray, she set it on his lap. "Let's try this." Another unspoken command.

And so, he followed her orders, continued to eat, one bite after another, before he grew too tired to lift the spoon to his mouth, and damned if he was going to let Janeway feed him.

He dropped the spoon on the tray and shook his head. She moved it back to the coffee table, then picked up the glass of milk, held it to his lips.

Another shake of his head, and, thankfully, she didn't insist.

She returned the glass to the tray, moved back to the chair across from him.

They sat in silence for several long moments, and then she spoke. "Tell me about your nightmares."

He shook his head again, tried to talk about ship's business instead.

She kept turning the conversation back around.

And he continued to cut her off at every pass.

Finally, Janeway sighed, defeated. "We don't have a counselor on board, Commander."

"No, but we have a morale officer," Chakotay offered helpfully, still trying to pull her away from her chosen topic.

"Would you like me to call Neelix? I'm sure he'd love to come visit, cheer you up. Maybe he'll even sing a few folksongs with you."

Chakotay crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, leaning further back into the cushions of the couch. "That won't be necessary, Captain."

"I didn't think so." She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "Now, tell me about those nightmares."

"You just don't give up, do you?" he grumbled.

"I'm nothing if not persistent."

He shifted his eyes back to her. "You're nothing if not-"

"Uh-uh, don't say it, Chakotay. I'm still your commanding officer." She smiled gently. "It might help to talk about them."

Chakotay nodded, grudgingly. "It might, but I-"

The sound of the door chime cut him off, and he raised a questioning eyebrow in Janeway's direction.

She shook her head. "Don't look at me. One bath a day's enough."

Relatively sure that it wouldn't be Paris on the other side of the door, Chakotay called, "Come in."

The door slid open, and B'Elanna stepped inside, her eyebrows arching slightly when she saw Janeway.

"Captain," she addressed her, "I didn't realize you were here. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Janeway smiled. "You're not interrupting." She looked back at Chakotay. "We were just talking."

"I ran into Kes in the mess hall," B'Elanna explained. "She was on her way here, but I told her that I'd take the evening shift."

Chakotay sighed, didn't say anything, just looked down. He felt like a child, being passed from one sitter to another.

"I think that's a fine idea," Janeway enthused. "It'll give you a chance to visit." She stood up, glanced down at the tray on the table, then back to B'Elanna. "Make sure he finishes that soup."

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna responded.

She turned her gaze on Chakotay. "And that's an order, Commander."

He sighed again, but nodded, acknowledging her command, then cringing inwardly at the soft words she spoke to B'Elanna as she passed her. "He may need some help." And she was gone, the door sliding closed behind her.

With a slight scowl, Chakotay looked over at the woman standing in the middle of his quarters. "Why are you here?"

B'Elanna scowled back. "Apparently I'm here to feed you soup." She walked over and sat down in the chair Janeway had vacated, watched as he ran a hand down over his face.

"I don't need you here." His voice was hard and dismissive.

But she understood.

"I've seen you at your worst, Chakotay."

He stared over at her, saw the look in her eyes. He knew she had. Five days he'd been held captive by the Cardassians - tortured, beaten, starved. And when the Maquis had overrun the facility, they'd found him barely alive. Chakotay could still remember being carried out of that hellhole in Ayala's arms, carried like a damn baby. He didn't say a word for three days. And she was the one who'd sat with him, as he battled the fever that raged through his body. He had vague memories of opening his eyes to find B'Elanna leaning over him, bathing his face with a cool cloth, murmuring words of assurance, forcing him to eat and drink, talking to him, bringing him back from the nightmare that he kept reliving in his mind. What he was going through now was nothing in comparison.

She knew what he was thinking. "You fought your way through that; you'll fight your way through this, too. It's just one more battle."

He exhaled an exhausted breath. "I guess I'm just tired of the war."

B'Elanna leaned over, touched her hand to his knee. "It'll be over soon."

He covered her hand with his, gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "You're right, B'E. Thanks."

She smiled, pulled back before the moment became too much, and shifted the conversation. "So, you've been spending some time with Janeway. How's that going?"

Her question was met with a roll of his eyes. "She wants me to talk about my nightmares."

"Wouldn't hurt."

"Hell, I don't need to relive them," he shot back. "It's bad enough seeing them every time I close my eyes."

"Yeah." She studied him for a moment. "But you're famous for keeping it all inside. Doesn't make you any less strong to admit when you need some help."

"That's not it. I just…"

B'Elanna could feel the tension, knew this was territory he didn't like to explore, so she stopped pushing. "Well, I won't ask about them."

"Thanks," he breathed, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "Besides, you already lived through them with me once before."

She nodded, changed the subject again. "You want some more soup?"

"Not really."

Getting up, she moved over to sit beside him, picked up the bowl. "Eat some anyway." She lifted the spoon to his mouth.

His eyes stared hard into hers, but she didn't flinch or pull back.

"Janeway made it an order. She's the captain." She said the last sentence with a familiar inflection – his. And he remembered months before when he'd held her back on the bridge, said those very words. In that moment, she'd trusted him.

In this moment, he could do no less.

And so, realizing it wouldn't be the first time, Chakotay gave in and let B'Elanna feed him.

~vVv~


	8. Chapter 8

He fell asleep on the couch, and B'Elanna covered him with a blanket, then sat and watched and listened as his steady breathing became soft snores that she remembered from the close quarters of the _Val_ _Jean_. How many nights had she lain awake on her bunk, unable to sleep for one reason or another, and heard that sound emanating from down the short hallway? Unlike the rest of the crew, as captain, Chakotay had his own cabin, but half the time he left the door open at night – an unconscious, or perhaps conscious, desire to stay connected to the rest of them. Hell, they trusted each other with their lives; some nights, hearing Chakotay's uneven breathing and stuttering snores reminded her that they were alive.

As she watched and listened now, she found her mind returning to those days after his captivity by the Cardassians. She had lived that nightmare with him, sitting in that small cabin, wiping him down with a wet cloth that only stayed damp for three or four strokes, before the heat of his fever dried it out. Then she'd dip it in the water bowl again and simply continue – a sway, a rhythm, gentle ministrations that cooled his body and grounded him when he woke, frightened and disoriented, nightmare images following him into the grey light.

He'd cried that first night back: racking sobs that tore at his throat. There was no awareness, no intimation that he knew she was there, even though he clung to her at times, shaking and gripping her back with clenched fingers. She doubted that her presence pierced the haze that enveloped him.

And so she'd held him, rocked him, shielded him. Mike had been there, but the others had held back, giving him space and privacy. Even Seska. B'Elanna should have suspected something then, but she'd been too concerned about Chakotay to even let it register – all Seska cared about was the image of the man and the secrets he kept.

Chakotay shifted, groaned softly, and the movement and sound brought B'Elanna back from her memories. She moved over to the couch and sat beside him, gently placed her hand on his forehead, and he stilled at her touch, drew in a ragged breath, opened his eyes.

"B'E…" he breathed.

"You're all right." She rubbed her hand along his cheek, then brought it down to rest on his shoulder. She could feel the uneven rise and fall of his chest. "Close your eyes. Just sleep."

He stared up at her for several long moments, and she saw in his eyes what he would never say: _Don't leave me._

"I'll be right here, old man. You're safe."

And Chakotay exhaled a soft sigh and let his eyes fall closed.

~vVv~


End file.
